The Joker's Ace
by bloodonthepages
Summary: The Joker was a pretty damn good criminal, thank you very much. Not to mention good looking. But one rainy night, a woman from his past brings a child, claiming it is his. Then things get complicated...UPDATED
1. Chapter 1

Two lone figures stood at the entrance of the doorway.

The heavens poured their wrath on the couple, blurring their features beyond recognition. The wind howled and sent litter tumbling across the cracked streets, slick with rain. The rain, the thunder, the coldness and the wind all tumbled in ecstasy with one another as only two forbidden lovers might.

The small, sad tree that had been planted some months ago in a half-hearted attempt to brighten up the neighborhood was holding on for dear life by its roots, swaying dangerously close to a bright purple convertible which sat, despite parking violations, in front of the old beaten down building. Almost inaudibly, the smaller of the two blurs sneezed.

"Shut up," spat the older of the two "It's your own fucking fault. You should have worn a warmer coat."

The younger, not bothering to mention that she didn't _have_ a warmer coat, merely inclined with her head at the doorway. Raising the cigarette to her lips for another puff, the older extended one long red manicured nail to the door and promptly pushed the small yellowed doorbell.

Nothing happened.

Annoyed, she tried again. And again. Positive that this was the right address, she kept punching that unfortunate button until some yanking it open.

That someone had had a long night and was in no mood for crap. He was tired, stressed, and very close to punching the ringer of the doorbell. But the sight of the shapely dark-haired woman and her hooded child companion sparked his curiosity. Gruffly, he asked them what the hell they wanted.

The child slowly raised her head so that her features were revealed. Lightning flashed, reflecting in her large, honey-brown orbs. Something in that look made him tremble, and it wasn't just the wind. Something familiar in those eyes, and yet…

"We are here to see the Joker." said the dark one promptly. "Lead the way."

For reasons the man himself did not yet fully understand, he did just that. Maybe he was simply accustomed to following orders from strong, authoritive voices, or maybe it was the fact that the slender pale girl scared the crap out of him, but either way he led them through hallways and passages until they came to a gaudily painted purple door. Testily, he knocked.

"Yessss…?" Came a pitched voice from the other side. It sounded specifically like a constrictor as it greedily wrapped around its prey. Turning tentively to the two women behind him before answering, the henchman answered

"Um, boss, there's a lady outside sayin' she want's to see you. Got's a kid with her. Should I get rid of them or…?"

A crackle was heard behind the doorway. It was so utterly chilling that even the child looked up in surprise.

"But my dear henchman! Shouldn't you know by now the clowns simply _adore_ children? Send them in, of course!"

The lock on the door unclicked with a rusty squeak.

The man nodded. He understood that his boss had also had a hard day, and this would help him ease the tension. He released the grip on his gun and turned away, aware that the two would die in a more twisted, perverted way. 'It's their own fault.' He though to himself "They _did_ come here. What were they thinking?' Shaking his head, he rounded the corner and thus disappeared.

The woman, meanwhile, had kicked open the door. 'God forbid she use the friggin' _handle._' thought the girl. But still, she kept silent.

The room that she stepped into had all the flashiness of a carnival, all the twistedness of a horror flick, and all the gaudiness of a whorehouse. The walls had been carelessly painted purple, and green glitter had been strewn atop of that. Boxes where scattered chaotically across the room, spilling their contents onto the lilac carpet. Dynamite mingled with chatter-teeth and magicians' bouquets like it were the most natural thing in the world. Bullet holes littered the entire room.

Behind a pewter colored desk was a gigantic map of Gotham that took up almost the entire wall. Messages were scrawled across in deliberate handwriting, like DIE! DIE! DIE! and HERE LITTLE PIGGIES and POP GOES THE WEASLE! HAHAHAHAHA and BOOM!

The desk itself was long and squat. It had so many knobs that one might suspect that some of them had been glued on. But the object itself was not the thing of interest at the moment, but rather the person behind it.

Paler than the deadest of corpses, narrowed blue eyes that contained malice and joy and madness and laughter at all times, and a grin so big and lewd that it would have made Cheshire cat hide his face in shame, sat the Joker.

His head tilted sideways slightly in confusion, but in a matter of seconds a flame of recognition sparked in his eyes.

"Ahhhhhh," said the clown, standing up to his full spindly height and throwing his arms out wide as if to hug her "_Star._ It's been a while, hasn't it? But don't tell me that you, too, have fallen for me? I already have _one_ whore that's done _that._ And she doesn't. Like. Competition."

Star rolled her eyes and promptly lit a joint. She needed more than nicotine when dealing with this guy.

Taking a drag, she said sharply "I did not come for that."

Looking around for her child, she pushed the girl forward with all five of her red manicured claws. The child, still hooded, merely bent her head to the floor.

"I came because _this one _ is yours."

Lightning once again flashed, and the girl peered at the man from beneath her brows. The Joker peered back.

"I find that a bit hard to believe." said the madman dryly "You're telling' me I struck lucky that one time?"

"Oh, you _better _ believe it." Snapped Star, pulling back the girl's hood.

Spiky, light brown shoulder-length hair framed a thin, pointed face. Large eyes the precise color of honey dominated her face, and below that a slightly pointed nose and a rather large mouth with small lips the palest shade of pink. Her skin was pale, though not as pale as the Joker's, her body thin and sharply angled. She was, without a doubt, the Joker's child.

A long stretch of awkward silence passed as father stared incredulously at daughter and daughter stared coolly back. Finally, the Joker's lewd grin returned and he let back another chilling laugh.

"And what," he wheezed " Is the point of this, exactly? Did you think I'd pay child support? _Do you want me to visit her every weekend?_" He let out a giggle.

Star shrugged "Do whatever the hell you want," she replied. " She's your problem now."

Both the girl's and the Joker's head snapped rather smarty toward the Latino woman.

"_What?"_ they both asked in disbelief at the same time.

"_You_ shut up," Star snapped at the child, slapping her rather hard at the back of the girl's head. "And _you,_" she pointed with her joint at the Joker "I've kept that brat for _fourteen_ years. During that drag, I've been tracking you down. Now I've finally found you, so it's your turn to take on the joys of parenthood."

"You expect me to take care of her? She'll be dead by the morning!"

"Kill her, throw her out, I don't care." Star sigh "Just…do what you wish. I'm tired of taking care of her. My trailer barely holds _one._ And if she's dead, well… one less problem for the world."

'I'm right hear,' though the girl sourly 'Why are they treating me as if I were deaf?'

The Joker once again laughed "Oh, _I_ get it! You don't want me to be Father of the Year at all! This is simply an _assassin's trip._"

The child's mother once again shrugged and turned to leave, her heels clicking on the floor despite the carpeting. "Like I said, do whatever the hell you want." She was almost at the door when she turned back and added "Oh, and she's a bit _mentally unstable_, so…" And then she was gone.

"Mentally unstable, huh?" He muttered, crossing the room quickly to chase after his one night stand "Jeez, I wonder _why._"

Stopping suddenly, he turned back and asked "Oh, by the way kid, what's your name?"

"I have none," replied the girl "So you may call me Nameless."

"Nameless, huh." he said, grabbing a machine gun before speeding out the door "Weirdo."

The next couple of minutes where filled with gunshots, mad laughter, and the distinct sound of Nameless's mother screaming. Finally, the clown returned to his office and threw his gun carelessly aside.

"Right, then," he said briskly "Now, ah, _Nameless_, I think I should respect your mother's ah, dying wish by killing you also. Buuut," he added, throwing an arm around her shoulder "Since I am _such_ a good father, I think you deserve a dying wish, too." leaning in closer, he asked " So, what'll it be? A last phone call to a friend? A soda pop? Wadaya want?"

Nameless thought for a bit. "I have no friends," she said finally "And I don't feel the need for anything materialistic, because doubtless it won't matter once I am dead. _So…._" she said, in a tone quite similar to her father's "I want a name for myself, which you could put on my tombstone."

"That seems appropriate," he agreed. "So, um…"

"It has to be fitting." added Nameless.

"Hmm…" he said "I really can't think of anything! You can sleep in here while I decide."

Nameless obediently sat down on the floor and the maniac walked out, pondering names.

'Looks like I just bought myself another night,' she thought to herself 'For now…"

To be continued….

_____________________________________________________________________________________

**Author's Notes; **

Well, that was fun, wasn't it? As a general rule, I usually stick with poetry on Deviantart, but I decided to give this a shot. Below are some comments about this chapter;

Pushed the button until he came- that's what she said. Sorry, I couldn't resist.

The death of Star- Well, you wouldn't expect the Joker to let her live, now would you? Look how disrespectful she was!

Nameless-  I did not take that from Loveless. Nameless does not have a name because her mother did not want to attach herself to her child in any way. Granted, she probably assumed aliases while going to school, but that wasn't really her _name._ So no birth certificate. Which brings us to our next point…

Star's hatred-  Nameless was a mark of her mistake. I'd also like to point out that she and Joker had sex fourteen years ago, so this was before Joker was The Joker. (that's why it took fourteen years for him to be tracked down. Because, come on, he's not that hard to find in his current state, now is he) Probably another reason Star was killed, because _she_ was a reminder of _his _past life. Ironic, no?

The map of Gotham City- I kinda took that idea from **ChaosandAnarchy. **Sorry! It was a good idea!

The Lightning- Yes, I understand it was very cliché.

Updates; At least one update every week, I hope.

Enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

The Joker's shoes made a clickity-clack sound as he swaggered through the hallway, contemplating the girl's fate. True, she was most likely his daughter. But since when did that qualify as a Free Life Ticket? Fathers killed their children all the time! Hell, if word got out about this, he'd be in _big_ trouble. Suddenly he'd seem all _sensitive_ because he had a _daughter_ and he obviously loved her _very, very much _ because he hadn't killed her yet. Knowing the idiot media, they'd probably weave a tale of woe about how he'd taken her in from the rain and nursed her back to health.

"It's one freaking night, dammit!" he yelled at the imaginary reporters "That doesn't mean anything! I'm giving her a zap of my flower in the morning, so you can fucking stick your noses _elsewhere!"_

Pausing to recompose himself, he wondered why the hell he was catering to the brat anyway. "Think of a name." Ha! Who said she even _deserved _ one? Asking for such a thing, and in such a condescending (unemotional) voice, too! Maybe her name really _should_ be Nameless. Wouldn't that be worth a laugh?

He imagined her waking up in the morning to his leering face above her.

"Surprise, Nameless! Your new name is…Nameless!" Bang. And all that trouble was behind him. But noooooooo, he had to be _generous._ Parenthood sucked.

So, what would the lucky string of letters be. Gloria? No, no, too old fashion. Think more _modern_.

Smiley? Ugh, _way_ too Miley Sirius. He wasn't quite that evil. _Think,_ damn it! This shouldn't be that hard. He was, after all, a genius.

Ok. So how about Purple? Purple was a nice color, especially on him. On the other hand, girls with names like Purple or Blu or Chandelier usually ended up working in the Ugly Coyote. So nix on the stripper name.

Um…Duella? No, no, no. Duella was such a _weird _name. What type of sick, psychopathic person would he be if he named her _that?_ I mean, he was, but…no. Definitely not. No.

Maybe it would help if…he analyzed her personality! Yessss that would do nicely. Then he could think of a name, kill her, chop her into hyena food mixed with blood de la Star, and return to his average life of family fun and comedy. Yeah, he was a real family man, that Joker.

So…let's see. Quiet, up to the point of rudeness. Rudy? No, wait, that was a boy's name. Ok, hazel eyes, weird hair that was spiky even though shoulder length…Spike? Honey because of her eyes? Ew.

Besides for that, she was very sly and manipulative. Much like himself, actually. Her "last request" had been a move well played. But she kept quiet about it, as if displaying her intelligence would get her a beating. Which, looking back on her mother, probably would. Probably why she didn't talk either.

Such a shame, though. She had so much _potential._ That's right, he'd seen that look in her eyes. The oppression, the malice, the slight madness beginning to take root and bloom. It was all there. Hell, if he could find a way to break her out of her shell, than Gotham could most likely have another Joker on their hands.

Wait.

Another.

Joker?

The clown suddenly paused, one foot stuck out in midair. That was it. Perfect. Perfect!

Laughter bubbled inside him, crawled up his insides and poured out of his mouth. In spurts at first, then incessantly, frothing and churning around the halls, under the door cracks, into the rooms and out the windows into the streets of Gotham. It cascaded throughout the building, the madness affecting his henchmen, who gave out unsure chuckles; to his two pets, Bud and Lou, who laughed along with almost the same degree of insanity, their teeth gleaming dangerously. What was left of Star's face seemed to grin, and even Nameless couldn't help giggling in her sleep. Outside, despite the rain, the drunk guffawed to himself, the John the next building over chortled as he fucked his whore. Even the cop on the corner could not help cracking a smile as he ripped a ticket out of his book. The whole city, the whole world laughed and laughed and laughed, but inside they were afraid.

* * *

To understand the complete irony and humorous tragedy of the situation, we must first realize Nameless's past.

Nine months after a fling with a certain chemical factory worker, Star gave birth to a child of shame. Not having money for abortion, she had tried everything from alcohol to dope. Nothing worked. No premature release. Not wanting to try the coat hanger, her one fleeting hope was that her bastard child could, at least, look like her.

Not such luck.

While Star's skin was a rich creamy mocha, her daughter's was a shade shy of porcelain. While Star had thick black ringlets, her daughter's hair was a straight, spiky, mousy brown mess. The woman's eyes were olive shaped while the girl's were orbs (although, at least, the same color), the mother curvy and round in all the right places while the daughter bony and sharply angled.

Nameless, in other words, looked like her father.

And her mother hated her for it, hated the one fatal decision that led to such a mistake, hated her one and only child with every fiber and every being that she possessed. It reflected in her eyes, poured from her mouth, oozed from her pores.

She would not comfort her crying child in the next room, not pick her up and hold her close and whisper soft words in her ear. She refused to love her, to care for her, to show one ounce of affection. Just lit a cigarette, inhaled, and turned the volume of the TV higher to drown out the screams.

Eventually, Nameless taught herself to walk and learnt how to speak from the television. She learnt to climb out of her crib and toddle around, saying seemingly random things and staring up at her mother with huge, round eyes in an almost nauseatingly cute way. Star was not amused.

_Shut up_, she'd snap, and hit her girl, if the toddler dared laugh, dared run, dared breathe too loudly. Nameless was a quick learner, and soon would only sit there and gaze at her mother with solemn, wide eyes. Which, of course, only pissed off the woman more. _Get out!_ she'd screech, and the five year old would have no choice but to go. And so it was thus the she never really had a home.

But perhaps it was for the better, because among the wanderings she happened to stumble upon the Gotham City Public Library. It was there, with the help of the librarian, that she learnt how to read and write. She learnt very quickly, partly because of her intelligence and partly because the librarian decided that she had better things to do and so was very condescending.

Nameless learnt a lot in that library. She would come there and sit to read things that were often above her reading level. Starting at Dr. Seuss and now in the middle of Kafka, she had learnt a great many things about the world. One of them was school.

Nameless longed to go to school. She wanted to learn more, to take testes and put a shiny red apple on her teacher's desk. But more than that, she hoped for a friend. Dare she dream it, dare she hope that she could have someone to play with, some to talk and share secrets with and aspire dreams together? Dare an eight year old wish for so much without getting beaten and thrown out of the house?

There were a couple of improbabilities with this desire. One was, being born in a bathtub, she did not have a birth certificate. In the eyes of the law, she didn't even exist.

This was resolved when Nameless met a certain hacker in the library. She knew what he was because,

during one of his escapades, he had also badly affected all the other computers. She approached him the next day.

_I know what you are. _She had informed him. He had stared stupidly at her for several seconds. Was this some idea of a kid's joke. _What?_

_You're a hacker,_ she had said simply, fearlessly, without emotion . _Can you doctor up a birth certificate for me?_

He had stared at her, and her at him, for several minutes. One, with eyes wide, half a donut sticking out of his mouth and brain calculating at top speed. The other, unsmiling, waiting for an answer. The hands of the clock twitched and moved, but the two did neither.

Finally, the silence was broken when the hacker giggled. That giggle turned into a chuckle, which in turned into a full-blown laugh. This laugher grew maddening, and the guy almost fell out of his seat as the child solemnly looked on.

_I'm serious,_ she said dryly. He stopped, his smile frozen and then gone altogether. She was serious.

_Ok, listen kid,_ he'd whispered harshly, leaning in _I cant, just, you know, do it _here._ This it a public place._

_So bring it here when you're done._

_It's not that simple! Listen, I don't even know your name. And even if I did, I'm _still_ not doing anything until I get half._

_Half of what?_

_My payment._

Oh yeah. _My name,_ she said _is Jessica Sterling. I will pay you five dollars now, and another five when you finish the job._

_Ten for the job? Get real. Try twenty now and another when I'm done._

Now, I'd just like to pause the story for a minute and point out that this guy is bartering with an eight year old. And, judging for his intelligence level, she will probably win.

_I will pay you seven each._

_Fifteen each._

_Nine._

_Twelve._

_Eight._

_Nine._

_Deal._

Told ya. And so it was that Nameless got her birth certificate for eighteen bucks. The hacker was not happy, but she was.

'Alright!' she had thought 'Now I can go to school!'

Four years later, Nameless decided that she didn't like school very much, after all. The supplies themselves had not been cheep, so her clothes certainly had to be. This was looked at through condescendence with the other students.

_What's with her hair? She should brush it down or something._

_Why does she wear the same friggin hood every day?_

_Purple is so _not _her color._

_Her eyes are huge. What is she, an owl?_

_Did she just come out of 1942? Seriously, look how skinny she is._

_Her lips are so thin. Hasn't she ever heard of lipstick?_

_Ugh, get. A. Tan._

And so on, and so on. Eventually she grew to hate them, and them her. She was too different. Almost like a forty year old in the body of someone barely twelve. She had stood there in the corner for four years, unwelcome, untouched. Until one day…

_Hi_ a voice had said behind her _you're, um, Jessica, right?_

Her name was Clara Owen. She had just been transferred from Idaho. Her hair was that of golden gossamer and her eyes the clearest, purest shade of blue. Her voice was like honey, her soul the brightest silver. She was, in fact, the perfect friend.

Finally, _finally_ Nameless had actually gotten something she wanted. She and Clara were inseparable. They would share secrets, satisfactions, dreams. Nameless would teach Clara the secrets to Socrates and trigonometry. Clara would in turn give Nameless beauty tips and bring her better clothing. It didn't help, for one was still dumb as dirt and the other was still ostracized. But they didn't care.

Everything was going perfectly in Nameless's life. Even her mother had quieted down. The means off that had been rather odd, really. One day she was beating her daughter as usual, when the phone had rang. Huh, that was weird. The phone _never_ rang.

But the phone did ring, so Star answered it. And, as usual, she was her same charmistic self.

_What the fuck do you want?_ She spat on the phone _I'm _busy_ here._

She had listened for a bit, her face twisted into a snarl. But slowly, that face had softened into something Nameless had never witnessed before; fear. Slowly, very slowly, Star put the phone down.

_Go to your room._ She had said softly, in a controlled voice

_Ma, what's-_

_Just go!_

She had went.

Yes, Nameless was happy, but one day it changed. It did not change for the better, and it led to the events that we have already followed. It went like this.

It was raining. Hard. So hard that Nameless suspected that if she went out now, the drops would cut right through her, like bullets.

They were in Clara's apartment. She remembered the Clementine she was eating, the sweetness of it. The sweetness which, soon enough, would turn sour.

It started when Clara had walked in, daintily as always.

_Can we talk?_

_Don't we always?_ She had asked, the sweet juices running down her chin. Signing, her friend took a napkin and wiped it off for her. She had grinned sarcastically at her.

_You're not my mother._

_Like your mother would ever do something that nice to you?_

_Ah. Touché. _

There was an awkward pause in the conversation, something which almost never happened. Something nagged in the back of Nameless's mind, but she ignored it.

And then it broke.

_I-I don't think we should be friends anymore. _Clara had blurted out.

Nameless was silent, no quite believing what she was hearing. She continued to calmly eat her fruit, licking the juices off her fingers.

_Did you hear me, Jessica?_

_I heard you._

_Well…um, are you upset, or do you want me to tell you why?_

_Suuuure._

She though it was a game. Truthfully, she did. It was a joke. It had to be. Clara would never do that. But at the same time, she seemed to be watching from the sidelines, watching the two girls sitting at the table. One delicate and blonde and sorry looking, the other one, ugly, calmly eating away at her fruit.

_Um, you, uh, know Patricia?_

_Oh yeah. Irish girl, right? Red hair, popular?_

_That's right. Well, she ah, likes me, Jesse._

_Don't tell me you're switching to the other team?_

No._ But… she wants to be friends with me. _

_Ok._

_But she said on one condition._

_Ok._

_She said…that I can't be friends with _you.

Nameless had smiled then, waiting for the punch line. It didn't come. She dropped her citrus on the plate.

_Oh, you're serious._

_Yeah._

_But-_

_Look, I know that this is hard for you. But… you don't want to drag me down, do you? You want me to be happy?_

And she had waited. Nameless had expected rage to flood throughout her body. She expected anger and tears. Instead, an icy coldness wrapped around her heart. No burning, just cool calculation.

_Of _course. She had said _I wouldn't want to burden you._

_Jesse-_

_No, I should leave._

But she didn't leave. Not yet. They had stared at each other from across the table, one in shame, the other calmly eating her fruit. Finally, she finished her Clementine, licked the last of it off her fingers. Then she had gotten up coolly, taking the plate with her, and left the table.

Clara signed with relief. It was over. Now she could call Patricia, and-

Crash.

The broken plate was imbedded three inches deep in her skull. Blood and juice mingled and ran down the back of her silky hair. Her perfect, blue eyes stared into nothingness.

And Nameless had laughed, and her laughter had turned to tears, and she ran out into the rain, the bullets biting her skin.

Running through the wetness then, Nameless knew that there was something wrong with her. She knew that she would kill again, she knew that she was probably a psychopath. But the thought did not bother her as much as she thought it would, which only proved her point, and she ran to her mother's house.

Her mother had opened the door. She had seen the blood, and she also knew. So she slapped her child.

_I knew it would come to this. _She had said simply. And they had boarded the train into the inner city of Gotham, where her mother revealed her father, and was killed on that day.

This was why she was not afraid of the Joker, for she had seen worse. And she was not upset that her mother was killed, because she was incapable of love. And she slept in the office of the Joker, among the other oddities, because she only knew how to follow orders.

So when she woke up to a purple pant leg bumping her in the face, she was not afraid. She was not afraid of death. In fact, she would embrace it. There was no point of living.

" I'm not going to kill you," said the Joker.

Ohohoho. Great.

"…yet. _But, _in the mean time, you're going to help me with something."

"What?" If it were anything sexual, she'd kill herself.

"Oh, _you'll_ see. Now get in the car. It's the beautiful purple one."

She obeyed, following him outside into the car. The rain had cleared up, leaving only it's puddles of tears.

"Buckled up, kiddo."

She did. "Did you pick a name for me?" she asked.

The Joker grinned are her, the corners of his mouth almost reaching his eye sockets.

"Nope."

And they sped off.

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**Author's notes;**

The Ugly Coyote-  This is a strip bar. There is also a reality show that holds a contest to see who could work there and there actually **were** girls there named Purple, Blu, and Chandelier

Duella (Dent)-  An actual character in the Teen Titan comic series. Duella first claims to be the Joker's daughter, but then frequently changes her parents throughout the series. Other fathers of hers that may or may not be are Scarecrow, Penguin, Mr. Freeze, Mad Hatter, and, of course, Two Face. I personally think she's just a random chic screwing things up. I also think it would be funny if Nameless met her. But we'll see…

Kafka- A very good writer, although very complex. He likes to turn people into cockroaches in his stories.

1942- I am referring, of course, to the Holocaust. Nameless is not THAT skinny, but she does look like a bad cause of anorexia hit her.


	3. Chapter 3

Bump.

Bump.

Bump.

Despite it's "beautiful, classy prominence" as Joker put it, the compact purple convertible seemed to hit every pothole and speed bump in the city. Every time it would collide with one, it would jump about three feet in the air. It would stay suspended for about one and a half seconds, until the laws of gravity took hold and it landed with a distinct, and very audible

Bump.

This was, of course, very amusing for an insane person. And if that insane person happened to be in the car at the time, and had a _very _ charming laugh, well, why not? Laugh to your small, black heart's content! It's funny!

Nameless failed to see the humor.

Ooooh the car hit a bump. Yeah, very funny. Hilarious. Har-dee-har-har. She couldn't even laugh, it was so funny.

"Stop sulking."

"Eh?"

"You heard me. What the hell is wrong with you? I've run over every pothole and speed bump in the city, and I don't even get a _crack_ of a smile."

"I don't think it's that funny."

"What?! I thought all kids liked being thrown up in the air."

"We're in a car."

"So pretend it's a carnival ride. Jeez, you've got such a stone face, I don't know who's worse. You, or the Bat."

"Oh yeah. You've met him?"

"Well duuuuh. Don't ask stupid questions."

"Ok."

They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a moment, contemplating their first conversation. The car continued to bump, the passengers continuing to hang suspended in time for one and a half seconds. Then;

"What's he like?"

The ragtop screeched to a sudden halt as its owner angrily stomped on the brakes. Turning to face the girl, the Joker shoved a single, serrated, gloved finger into her face.

"I thought," he hissed "I told you not to ask any stupid questions."

Nameless stared at the finger. This was not an astounding feat, considering that it was about two inches from her pale countenance. She daren't move, lest her eye be poked out, and so instead affixed her glance on a rather large bird resting on the ledge of a building. She could not see its features, as it was too far away and was hidden in the shadows, but caught that it shifted uneasily at the sight of her glance. Most animals, including people, did. She liked to think of it as a talent, although a not very useful one.

"Well?" Asked the Joker impatiently. It was not very often that people shifted consciousness in _his_ presence. Especially if his lovely gloved finger deemed that person's face worthy enough for it to be there.

Hell, the kid should be counting her lucky stars that her head hadn't been blown off by now. _Firstly _ since she had failed to see the humor in his jokes (_his_ jokes!) and,_ secondly _because she wanted to know about the Bat. Hell, he wouldn't have minded if she had asked about _him,_ or that fat guy with the umbrella, that green chick that Harley always hung around with, Twoface, the chick who dressed up like a cat and pretended to not to have the hots for him even though she _obviously _did (for _no _woman could resist his charm), or, most importantly, him. But _noooooooo_, she wanted to know about Batsie. Batsie! The. Bat. Man. He couldn't stand it, he really couldn't. The clown didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He settled for laughing.

Up on its perch, the bird shifted uncomfortably.

Down below, Nameless narrowed her eyes. What was_ up_ with this guy? Always laughing. What was so funny, eh? Oh look, a mailbox! HAHAHAHAHA! A cat! HAHAHAHAHA! _A speck if dust! _ .HA.

There was nothing remotely comical about the world, in her opinion. This was almost (but not quite) as annoying as the time that Star had tried Speed. The living room was never quite fully repaired after that…

"I don't see how that's a stupid question," she replied dryly. Which was, in fact, a stupid answer. "I merely was wondering if I could analyze his personality, so that I if I were to find myself in combat with him, I would win easily."

The clown stared at her for a long time. His eyes narrowed into smaller and smaller slits, and a bead of sweat ran down Nameless's face. Finally, the Joker removed his finger and turned so that he was facing the steering wheel once more. He carefully placed his hands upon it, and slowly wrapped his fingers around it. Throwing his head back, he opened his mouth and let out a loud, long laugh. His daughter wondered how he could accomplish such a feet without taking a breath of air.

He swayed side to side, his fingers curling tighter and tighter around the car, his head cricked back, his tongue rolling out. And then, just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. The water spout was twisted off, no even a drop remained. Joker reached over his companion and opened her door.

"Ok kiddo, get outa my car. I've got stuff to do, and I don't need a little brat tagging along," he said, giving her a shove. Nameless unfurled her limbs and got out of the car. She stood very still, looking, in her opinion, very stupid in her black jeans and lavender blazer. Not wanting to continue this, she idly put her hands on her pockets and kick the door closed. The clown glowered at her

"Watch it, you'll scratch the paint."

"So what am I supposed to do?"

"See the sights of the city….dance….sing….stay here, I don't care. I'll come looking for you when I'm done. And," he added, pointing a finger threateningly at her "I _will_ find you. So don't try anything, got it?"

She nodded boredly "Got. It." The car screeched off, leaving Nameless nothing but the clarity that there just _might _be people in the world that were more annoying than her mother. But…no, no that was impossible. _Nobody_ was more annoying than here mother. Shaking her head sadly to herself for her own foolishness, she was about to turn the corner when the bird landed in front of her.

It was the one that had been observing her before, and she saw immediately that it wasn't a bird at all, although it _was_ Robin.

He glared at her.

And just like that, Nameless realized that it just might have looked a _tiny bit suspicious _ that she had been seen with the Joker. Hell, she supposed a lot of people had been, but not when they weren't tied up and having a conversation with him. It seemed the only reason she wasn't on the ground yet was the fact that she had pulled her hood back onto her head, hiding most of her features. The Boy Wonder did not yet know what to make of her yet because of her age, and so she simply had to stay still and wait for him to make his decision. And so she did, her honey eyes observing him, his…well, whatever color eyes he had observing her, the clock ticking, the pendulum swinging, the ax slowly raising….

And then, breaking the silence like a fist to glass, both equally bleeding, he spoke.

"What," he asked slowly, the words forming on his lips and disappearing, like bubbles " do you know about the Joker?"

Nameless opened her mouth, but all the words she wanted to speak were crammed so tightly in her throat that they couldn't get out. She wanted to tell him. She _wanted_ to. But something told her that she. Just. Couldn't. And so she closed her mouth and swallowed those words she so wished to speak, and winced, slightly, as they melted away in her stomach.

The boy, taking pity on her, let her stand there in silence to find new words to speak. He did not use force on her, for it was against his nature, and so would let her explain herself. His eyes, in a sense, were shut although they were open, and so he did not see the spark in the girl's eyes. The spark was an idea, although feeble at first, was soon fanned into a much larger fire. So the dragon opened her jaws, and flame poured out.

"He-he killed…._He killed my mother_."

The bomb stopped ticking, the pendulum paused, the ax was lowered. And Robin, lowering his defenses for the poor girl (which was a mistake), took a step closer, and asked her, how.

And so she had spun a terrible tale woe on how she had been kidnapped and how her mother, once locating the ransom note, had come after her. How her poor mother had drained her life savings and had brought it, only to be deceived and killed in front of her beloved daughter's very eyes. Torn apart by the Joker's two hyenas, what a pity (here Robin thought he saw a glimmer in the girl's eyes, but ignored it) and taunted by the very grinning devil himself all the way to this stop, where she was left, presumably to die.

"Why didn't your mother call the police?"

"I don't know. I guess she was just scared. She couldn't think straight, you know?"

"Oh, ok-sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"Bunny Nozoro."

"Right. So he was taunting you that whole ride."

"Yes. It was horrible."

"Ok. So one final question…"

Here he leaned in a bit, and perhaps, took a step closer. Alarm bells started to go off in the girl's head, but she couldn't quite place why.

"How stupid do you think I am?"

Oh. That's why. Nameless looked at him in surprise as he grabbed her wrist. That _hurt._ What was going on?

"I bugged the car. _Nameless_, is it? Kind of a weird name for one of Joker's freaks. Usually they're more colorful."

She narrowed her eyes "He's working on it."

"Whatever. We'll find out all about you soon enough. Did you really let your mother get torn apart by hyenas, ya little sicko?"

"_Excuse moi_, it was actually a machine gun."

"Wow, my opinion of you was really raised with _that_ comment."

"Nobody asked your opinion, Cardinal."

"It's _Robin." _ he growled, gripping her wrist tighter.

"Whatever, Chickadee. Did you really think you'd be taken seriously in _that _ outfit?"

"There is nothing. Wrong. With my suit."

"Puh-leez. It looks like a hippopotamus puked up a traffic light and you decided to try it on."

"Why you little-" he snarled, letting go of her wrists and aiming for her face. She miraculously dodged his blow, and while doing so kicked him in a place that well…let's just say it wasn't that comfortable.

Robin howled in pain and fell backwards, landing on his back. Giving him a kick in the stomach for good measure, the girl leaned over him and grinned. "And remember," she taunted, "Every man has a weakness…and it's always in the exact. Same. Spot."

His howls of fury could be heard throughout the city as she took off, laughing in what seemed like ages.

* * *

The Joker was having a good day.

Suuuuuure there were some…_obstacles. _Like Nameless and her stupid 'Oh, I don't think it's that funny' attitude. Stupid brat.

But there were also good moments, like when he had killed Star. That was good. Very enjoyable. Or right now, when he was burning down a warehouse full of people. Very good. Even more enjoyable.

Yeah, he could hear their screams right now, and it was _b-e-a-utiful._ Like music. He had to scram, of course. He didn't want a run-in with the Bat just _yet._ But soon, very soon. This was simply an _invitation._

And so, placing a note very carefully on top of the joker card, he deliberately placed it on top of the Queen of Hearts, the Ace of Spades, and some rotting tarts. The note said the following;

_The Queen of Hearts, she baked her tarts_

_The Joker harks, he stole the tarts_

_The Ace of Spades was named the thief_

_And now he's ashes, six feet deep_

Yeah, try to figure _that_ one out, Batty. He just hoped Hatter didn't find out about this. The whole Wonderland shtick was kind of his thing. But no matter.

Humming to himself, he absently made a mental note to tell Harley about this. Last time he forgot to tell her the plan, it hadn't gone well. Come to think of it, he should probably tell the brat too, since she was also a part of it. He should probably tell Harley about _her_ too…

Eyes widening, he slammed on the brakes. Aw crap, _Harley. _How was he going to explain his kid to _Harley?_

* * *

"So let me get this straight. You noticed a girl in Joker's car that seemed a _little _ young to go with him, so you investigated."

"Yes."

"You confronted her."

"Yes."

"She knocked you down in one blow and got away, despite being, in your own words 'a skinny little stick that couldn't blow a leaf over'."

"Well, yeah- but in my defense, she was pretty tall!"

"Oh, she was taller than you?"

"No…but-"

"So a little girl beats you up, and now she's roaming free on the streets, possibly the trigger for Joker's next plan."

"…"

"Well?"

"…Yeah…"

"…"

"…"

"Robin, you idiot."

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**Author's Notes;**

Not really a lot in this chapter, if you'll excuse all the puns I put in there. That "Queen of Hearts" poem is from Alice in Wonderland, which if you've notice, has _a lot _of cards in it. Therefore, it can be _interchangeable _ between Mad hatter and Joker. (at least in my opinion). So don't bother whining about it, because I've already thought of this whole plot thingy and…yeah. It's gonna be cool. Besides for that, some of you may be wondering why Batman is so sarcastic. Well the fact is, if I based him on the angst comic version, it would be very, very boring (and agnsty). So I kinda merged him with the B;TAS version so that he's still wallowing in misery and all that crap, but now he's _sarcastic. _Much better.

Besides for that I craaaaaaavvvve reviews. And don't try to look innocent, because I checked my hit thingy and apparently quite few people are reading this. Why, then, do I only have four reviews? Not cool, people!


	4. Chapter 4

Once vibrant people, they now lay still, nothing more than ashes. Ironic that when burnt, people turn the color of death. They are eaten by the flame until nothing more than charcoal skeletons, screaming to their God with tongues they no longer have, '_kill me!' . _But God, whether merciful or not, sends an angel to do the deed. It stretches its black wings and soars, sickle in hand, to cut out the soul that may or may not be there. In a way, he is the dark angel, a dark knight that delivers what all people want in the end; eternal bliss.

Ironic that Batman, Gotham's dark knight, is the same.

Ironic that he dresses up as the one thing he is trying to destroy.

Ironic that he stands among the ashes, next to his invisible enemy, as the they are thrown up in the air by wind and fall to earth like snowflakes. As he treads among the shadows of the souls, his eyes narrow more and more in disgust, his gloved fists clench tighter and tighter, his lips grow thinner and thinner. Soon he is trembling, either with rage or with cold of the black snowflakes that continue to fall. Soon the wreckage of the warehouse is an ocean, the deepest of the deep, with demons gliding all around him. They scream at him, hiss at him, grin at him. He can feel their tiny hands trying to drag him down deeper into the icy deep…

He can hear through the wind, the laugh of the Joker that taunts him in his mind. He could detect him through the smell of burnt corpses. He can see him now, leering through his card which, oddly enough, is with companions. Queen of Hearts, Ace of Spades. Tarts.

Slowly bending down to examine them further, he notices a piece of paper attached.

_The Queen of Hearts, she baked her tarts_

_The Joker harks, he steals the tarts_

_The Ace of Spades is named the thief_

_And now he's ashe-_

Rip. Rip. Rip.

White snowflakes float among the black as they are tossed in the air, and the Batman turns away in disgust. This time, it had gone too far. This time, he would lock up the Joker for good.

* * *

Nameless found herself hit by a car.

She was not dead, but her left cheek was scraped from the pavement and her right side throbbed from where it had been hit. Slowly, her bruised hand rose and slapped hard against the purple hood. She maneuvered her way back to her feet using what little strength she had in her arms, and was almost jolted over again as the driver honked his horn.

"Come _on!"_ Roared the Joker, taking his hand off the horn to shake his fist at her "I haven't got all night here! Get in the friggin' Magical Car of Fun already."

Rolling her eyes, Nameless managed to limp over to the passenger door and was about to open it before the clown stopped her.

"Nuh-uh, kiddo. The front's for mommies and daddies only. Get your ass to the back seat."

The girl stared at him. Did that mean she was a "mommy" on the car ride over? Or did the madman somehow get it in his head that she was about five years old? Either way, Nameless's patience was slowly diminishing.

"I'm fifteen," she said dryly, trying to keep control of her temper.

"And?"

The girl snapped. 'And'? She was being dragged around by a maniac clown. She had been abandoned in the middle of the city, confronted by Robin (_the _Robin!), who was probably filing a whole criminal report about her because she had been nervous and blurted out insults at him, ran like kind of psycho bitch until she was out of breath, and hit by a car with the driver being her father, who, by the way, was the Joker. The. Fucking. Joker. Couldn't she have a normal, bear-bellied wife-beating dead beat dad? But _noooooo_, it _had _to be the Joker.

"And?!" she spat, venom laced in ever syllable, with a voice she hardly knew"What the fuck's your problem, you over-obsessed, self screwing, maniac, inane, unfunny _clown? _You think you're so. Fucking. Hee-lair-rea-ous, but you are so. Fucking. Not! Get a freaking real job, yah gaudily dressed bum!_"_

Gasping for breath, the words were scarcely out of her mouth before she found a gun pressed to her head. Something told her she had made a mistake by blurting that out. Looking at her father she saw, although he was still smiling, there was a very dangerous gleam in his eye.

"You are beginning to become very annoying," he said dryly, clicking off the safety.

"I-I know," she stuttered, beads of sweat beginning to form on her forehead "I don't know what I-I just thought what my mother would say, and-"

The Joker rolled his eyes to the heaven he would never go to. He _wanted_ to kill her. Especially since he was giving her such lip like that. But now he couldn't, because he had already set his plan in motion. Burning down a warehouse (even if it had people in it) was just plain old boring…he had something more exciting in mind. Some he would humor himself by scaring the crap out of her, maybe leave her out on the streets for a couple of days, but…no, he couldn't kill her _just yet._

"Can you _taste _the crap that comes outa your mouth? Damn, I really should kill you, yah little runt."

"What?"

"I said _runt. _What the hell type of excuse was that? Do you think I'm stupid?"

"N-No."

"Then who the hell do you think you are?"

It seemed that that question was hung in midair by invisible strings, so the girl couldn't help but think about it. Who _was_ she? She knew that she existed. She thought; therefore she was, but…were you considered a person without a name? A knot started to twist in her stomach. Did you have a _soul?_ Were you _human?_

"I- I'm _nobody._" she admitted bitterly, more to herself than to the jester "Nameless, remember? Heartless. Soulless. Thoughtless. _Loveless_.

"I mean, I thought about how _you _ would act when Robin confronted me, so-"

The Joker's eyes widened and he held up a hand to stop her. "Pardon while I interrupt the whole angst crap you seemed to have thought up, but did the words 'Robin confronted me' just come outa your trap?"

"Yeah."

"And-just so that we're clear-you said that you acted like _me?"_

"Well-yes. I didn't know how to act, so I just imitated you."

The Joker asked exactly how (he had since lowered the gun so that he could drive. Nameless obliged to sit in the backseat.) and so she described to him the events that had happened after he had screeched away. When she had no more to tell, Joker snorted.

"_Traffic Light?_ C'mon, I coulda though of something better than _that._"

Nameless shrugged.

The clown rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Although it is…_useful_ how you can imitate people like that.

Kee-riest, you sounded so much like Star…I'm sure I can find a job for you somewhere. If not, I can always kill you."

The girl narrowed her eyes.

"Yeah…good 'ole fashion murder. But in the mean time, I gotta pick up the henchwench."

"Hench…wench?"

"You heard me. Every prince, especially the Crown Prince of Crime, need a royal fool. Unfortunatly, I got stuck with an idiot instead."

"There's a difference?"

"You'll see," he muttered, pulling up to a rather abandoned-looking green house. Almost every single plant imaginable had broken through the glass to wrap around the house next door. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but Nameless could have _sworn _ that the ivy inched closer to the car.

Hopping out of the convertible and motioning for his daughter to follow, they both made their way to the entrance. Raising one gloved fist, Joker banged rather smartly on the door.

"Who is it?" Asked a voice that sounded like roses intertwined with foxglove.

"Open up, green bean. I'm hear to collect the Tumbler Tramp."

"Just a split-pea of a second, clown."

"Ha. Ha. Leave the jokes to me, will yah?"

The merest vibration of voices was heard behind the door. Then a new, more annoying voice was heard.

"I ain't comin' clown."

"She's not coming," echoed the first voice.

"You ain't no good for me, Mista Jay."

"Absolutely no good whatsoever."

"We are _finished._"

"It's over."

"Go away."

"Scram."

"Oh, yeah, she seems _real_ attached to you." Nameless noted sarcastically.

"Shut it, _Star."_

"That was actually me talking."

The Joker gave he a shove off of the stoop. "But Harley-girl, I've gotta surprise for you here and _everything._ You wouldn't want me to bring it back, do you? Why, I almost couldn't lug it onto the doorstep!"

There was a pause, and then a high-pitched squeal as the door was flung open, revealing a woman dressed in a jester-like outfit and a green-skinned red-head behind her.

"Oh, Mishta Jay!" signed the jester, flinging herself onto her boyfriend, "You got me a _present!_ You do care!" She looked around savagely "Where is it? What's the surprise?"

"We-ell," began the clown, "you know how you always nag me about getting married, buying a house, and having little kiddies of our very own?"

Harley jumped up and down ecstatically "Yeah? Yeah?"

The Joker dug in his pocket, searching for something. "Well…hold on, I _think _ it's in this pocket…"

Harley let out an even louder squeal. "Puddin'! Are you-are you…"

"Nope." Grinned the Joker, pulling out his car keys and locking the doors with a mechanical squeak.

"But…I did get you…"

Here he grabbed Nameless by the shoulders and pulled her out in front of him "The kid part!"

The harlequin furrowed her brows at the girls appearance. "I don't get it. Did we adopt, or…?"

"No, don't be ridiculous! The kid's the product of a fling I had years ago!"

"So, she's…_yours?"_

"Yep." said the Joker proudly, "Say hello, Nameless."

Nameless gave her a weak smile but did not open her mouth.

The woman did not look amused. She stood there, trembling, her face getting redder and redder…

The red head snorted "Not very talkative, is she? Must've taken after her mother, for sure."

The Joker scratched his head "I don't get it! She was gabbing to no end on the way here. I don't know what's come over her…"

Bending down in front of her, the Joker firmly grasped her shoulders and started to shake her roughly

"Hell-o? Anyone home?"

Nameless's eyes nervously darted from the jester to the clown, but she never uttered a sound.

"Maybe she doesn't like strangers?"

"No, no, she was fine with _me._"

"Maybe she's broken," spat Harley, "You should return her, Mista Jay."

"I _can't,_ I threw out the _receipt."_

Nameless bit her lower lip. Ugh, it was happening _again._ Why couldn't she talk? She remembered how this had started a couple of years ago, starting at first with strangers and them working its way to everyone she knew until she could only talk to Star…and Clara. She distinctly remembered failing a class due to "lack of participation". That had not gone well.

She did not know why she could talk to the Joker. Maybe she felt comfortable with those who were kin? She also had spoken to Robin, although she doubted that counted since the Joker had been coming out of her mouth.

"Hold on," muttered the Joker, "I think I know what to…aha!"

Triumphly, he pulled out his gun and aimed it at the girl's head. "Ok, kiddo, speak."

Nameless stared at the gun in panic, not knowing what to do. She suddenly felt the same snapping sensation she had gotten when confronting Robin.

"Don't do it, Mista Jay!" she shrieked in an annoying voice, covering her head with arms "I'll be good, I swear! I'll, I'll talk for the rest of the day, how's that?"

"Hey," hissed Harley, her hands poised on her hips, "is that brat making fun of me?"

'Uh, no, it's kinda hard to explain, but…"

"Well that's da last straw, _puddin. _First, you do that _horrible_ thing to me-"

"Which one?"

"Waddaya me, _which one_? The thing!"

"What. Thing."

Harley looked sheepishly at the green girl.

'Which one was it again?"

"Chicken," she said boredly.

"Oh…right. So you gotta _embarrass _me in the club like that, then you kick me out, then you get my hopes up an' crush em with that little _brat,_ who's making fun of me!"

"But-"

"No! Goodbye, Mista Jay!"

The door was slammed, and the Joker slapped himself in the forehead and let out a long groan. Slowly, wiping his hand away from his face, he hissed,

"Now look what you've done!"

"Sorry. I probably wouldn't have panicked If you hadn't shoved the gun in my face."

"That's not the _point._ Listen, I gotta take care of something. You go convince Harley that she could come back. If not, I don't need you anyway and there's gonna be a bullet in your brain by tomorrow morning. _Comprende_ _?"_

Nodding (for, what else could she do?) Nameless made her way into the mass of ferns.

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**Author's Notes;**

Whew! Didn't realize I had it in me to type that all in one night, but…here it is!

Foxglove- Is, for those of you who don't, a poisonous plant.

Harley Quinn- Is it just me, or is Harley always ruder to Mista Jay when she's with Ivy? Don't worry, I'll make her into that same old lovable love-slave we all know and love soon enough. But in the mean time…

Her hatred towards Nameless-  Somebody went with Mista Jay before I came into the picture and had his kid? The _nerve_ of that whore! The _nerve_ of the brat for existing!

And…yeah, that's it. Thank those of you who reviewed for doing so. That wasn't very hard, now was it?


	5. Chapter 5

Nameless rang the doorbell.

This was actually an amazing feat, considering that she had just fought her way through a yard of very dangerous (and not to mention hungry) vegetation. She did not know how the deadly jungle had grown that fast. One minute there had been a nice, well trimmed lawn, the next…bam. Man-eating plants. Poisonous flora. Thorns and snags and spikes. If not for the makeshift wooden stick that Nameless had made for herself, she would certainly be dead by now, or worse. Now, gasping for breath, bleeding from several scratches and cuts, and bending over to regain her strength, she prayed that the tenants of the house had heard the electric ringer. So she waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Nameless was starting to lose patience. There were people in the house. She _knew_ that there were _people in the house._ Why, then, was no one answering the doorbell? A rather spiked vine slithered dangerously close to her ankle, but she stomped on it and it retreated. Leaves tangled in her hair, but she beat them away with her fists. Pulling her hood back over her head, she rang the doorbell incessantly for another minute 'C'mon, C'mon…' she thought.

Finally, _finally, _she heard soft footsteps come closer to the wooden barrier. Good, now all they had to do was let her inside so that she could escape the horrors that lay behind her. Jeez, she had no idea that insects could grow that _big_….

"Yes?" Asked a voice that sounded like lilacs intertwined with calico beans.

Flushed with anger and exhaustion, the girl kicked the door as hard as she could. Yeah, that's all she needed. The green one giving her a hard time. ' This would be so much easier if I could _talk_.'she thought bitterly.

But she could not talk, as she was trapped in this invisible prison of muteness, unable to talk, or shout for help ,or scream. She could do nothing but sit, watching once again from outside her body as if in a movie. She saw a brittle, exhausted girl, hands clenched, blood trickling from her mouth, honey eyes on fire. She could see through the wall, to where the woman was on her tiptoes, ear pressed to the door, a wide smirk marring her otherwise enchanting features.

She could feel anger and frustration build up inside her. Like heat, it rose higher and higher until she felt she would explode, felt that her head would tip over and that her boiled blood would burn down the whole jungle, the whole city, the whole world. She wanted to tip back her head and let it pour forth from her mouth, the volcano erupting, the tectonic plates shifting, the clouds spinning into a hurricane. She wanted to scream, one of the many things that she _couldn't_ do, as cotton was stuffed down her throat, as her vocal cords had been sealed shut.

_Why_ did nothing ever go right in her life? Did God hate her? Did the fates snip her string too short? Did the stars spell out that she was doomed? Dragged into this mess, forced against her will, now labeled a criminal. Misunderstood, but could not make herself be heard.

Hated by all, shunned by all. Too skinny. Too tall. Too pale. Voiceless, nameless, loveless. Could not talk even if she wanted too, her mouth sewn shut, unless she snapped. Trapped in a bubble, a box, alienated from the rest of the world, Untouched.

And suddenly, she found that it was all terribly _funny_. So funny that the thread snapped and she could scream, let it all out. She screamed and screamed, until she realized that she was not screaming at all, but that she was laughing. Laughing. And really, what was not to laugh about? After all, her life had been nothing but one, big, _joke. _ Funny. Funny, funny, funny. Hee-la-ree-ous.

Tears formed in her eyes, but they were tears of mirth. They trickled down her cheeks, both so hot that they scalded and so cold that they bit. The tears continued to pour forth, until she wasn't laughing anymore, she was sobbing, a lump of coal in her throat. At that moment, she wished that she was dead, that her existence would be snuffed out into the black. She regretted that she had ever made a deal with the devil, the Joker, her father- all to live little bit longer.

She could feel the warmness of her blood mixed with the tears, she was scratching her face without even realizing it. And then suddenly, her hands were no longer at her face, there were restrained in front of her by the shadows , two dark fists of the Dark Knight. She slowly looked up at him with tear-blurred vision and he, unrelentingly , looked back.

***

Ivy jumped away from the door, startled by the laughter. Backing away slowly, she managed to maneuver her way to the beat up television and turn it on, full blast. Hopefully, she had done it fast enough and Harley hadn't heard….

Harley popped her head out of the adjoining bedroom. "Puddin'?" She asked hopefully.

Ivy shook her heard. "No, I'm pretty sure it's the _other one_."

"How do you know? What if it _is_ him? Oh, Red, I gotta go out there….maybe he'll forgive-"

"I thought you two were done." Said the plant lover, coolly.

The jester's face consorted up in into a confused look "Aw, I thought I did, Red, but now I realize….we really _are_ meant to be together. It's that dumb brat, that's what it is. Oh, once I get my hands on that-"

Ivy, who had since gone to the wall to bang her head against it, now turned toward the blonde once more.

"Why do you hate her so much? I'd have thought that you'd _like_ anything relating to 'Mista Joe' ."

"It's Mista _Jay._"

"Whatever," she signed, rubbing her temples "God, and you call yourself a psychiatrist? Even _I've _figured it out."

Harley perked. "Figured _what_ out?"

"Why she's so quiet."

"Well, pray, do tell."

"I'm not so sure that I should. I thought you weren't interested."

"C'mon, Red…_please._"

"Fine," she said dramatically, striking a pose on the couch "I think….she has…..selective mutism."

"…"

"…"

"Whoiswhatsnow?"

"Oh, come on…you've _got_ to know that one."

"Nope."

"Harley, did you even _go to college_?"

"Yeah…but, you know, it _was_ pretty hard there. I almost didn't graduate."

Ivy rolled her eyes. "I wonder why," she muttered "Anyway, selective mutism is when you _can_ talk…but you _can't_."

"You can but you can't….what?!"

"I mean, everything's in working order, but you're too shy or whatnot to actually _speak_. Kinda like a ….I guess a mime would be a good example."

"Mimes can speak."

"Really? I thought that they took a vow to Mimism or whatever."

"No, they can speak as long as the makeup's off. But the girl _did_ speak."

"But she imitated you."

"Yeah?"

"Maybe it was a…sorta defense mechanism."

The clown stared at her, eyes wide. "Wow, Red," she said in awe "You're so smart! I bet even Arkham woulda hired you."

"I wouldn't be surprised," said Ivy, dryly "After all, look at who they've hired in the past."

"Hey! Anyway, you can help me pack."

"Why?" asked the redhead, curiously.

"I'm going back to Jay!"

"_What?"_

_***_

"Beautiful," muttered Nameless, so quiet that she was sure that the Bat wouldn't hear. She stared above the city, the electric lights humming all together to form one big web of lights. She had never been so high off the ground, never seen the stars that, from the city, were invisible.

Next to her, the shadows shifted, revealing the Knight.

"I know who you are," he said, his voice like gravel but soft all the same "I know where you came from."

Her breath hitched slightly, but she waited, calmly. What was there to do? She was on to top a forty five story building. It's not like she could escape. She would simply have to wait for the verdict of the judge.

"Nameless…" he continued, gliding closer to her "If that _is_ your real name…I just want to know…why would you work with the _Joker_ of all people?"

A high wind whipped through the air, rustling his cape, blowing her hair. She spoke so quietly that the air almost snatch it away and the Bat thought 'She sounds a lot like Rachel.'

"You know why." she muttered.

He sighed, like the rustling of leaves. "I think I do," he admitted "but-"

"Then say it."

A pause here, like two strangers stopping at the light, who look at each other and are whole, and the light turns green and they fade away forgetting one another.

"Are…you…the Joker's…daughter…?"

Another wind, whipping away, as she pulled back her hood and revealed her true face. Her bony form, her pointed nose, her wide lips, her pale countenance. And once again, it was obvious who she really was.

"I see," he said, for he saw. "But- just remember, Nameless. It is never too late. You can be whoever _you_ choose to be."

The girl, whose face had been watching the lights, jerked around, but he was gone. That was it? No beating? No jail?

"I hope the next time that we meet it will not be as enemies." Whispered the shadows, and then, they, too, were gone.

And then, once again, she was alone.

And suddenly, she knew exactly what she had to do.

***

The car pulled up at exactly 2 AM. Nameless got in.

"Ready?" asked the clown

"Yes." she answered, for what else was there to say?

"Good, I don't care. Good job with convincing Harley, by the way. Kid came racing back."

"What? But-"

"Eh?"

"Oh, never mind." she grumbled. It seemed that she had battled the Jungle of Doom for nothing. The idiot had come skipping back home anyway.

"The job is fairly simple." explained the Joker. "All you gotta do is act. You into theatrics?"

"Well-"

"Good."

"But that isn't all. Because, you see, _Nameless," _he grinned leeringly at her , moving toward her a little bit closer "I have chosen a suitable name for you."

_____________________________________________________________________________________

**Author's Notes:**

If you think it's Ace, you are fucking wrong. Two reasons for this;

1) It is redundant. In case you haven't noticed, whenever Joker has any kids, chances are one of them's gonna be Ace in _any fanfiction_. After a while it gets a little bo-ring.

2) It is way too predictable. C'mon, did you really think I'd title the thing The Joker's Ace and then _name_ her Ace?! No,no,no,no. The whole friggin _subplot_ of this thing is that her name is going to be a _surprise_. (at least until next chapter). Now, don't get me wrong, I did put in some foreshadowing and you can probably figure it out. But, really….

Selective Mutism- please don't kill me. I really don't need a hundred flames in my box going _Waaaahhhh! You don't know ANYTHING about that awful, awful disease so SHUT UP. _Actually, I do. And the whole defense mechanism thingy…well, the ff would be pretty boring if she couldn't speak _sometimes _now wouldn't it? .And some may say that's not logical, but you're reading a thing where one of the characters has fallen into a pit of toxic waste to somehow turn into a clown and you want to argue with me about _logic_?


	6. Chapter 6

Nameless was not nameless.

No, not anymore. And never again. Never, _ever_ again.

In some cultures, your name was considered your soul. But was your soul redeemed if you received it from the Devil? Nameless didn't care. She'd make any deal with the devil to get what she wanted.

Except this wasn't what she wanted.

Because _this_ was just retarded.

She supposed she should have known better. After all, she was handing over the decision to a _clown. _Not that she hated clowns. She rather liked clowns.

But she hated mimes. _Oh dear God_ how she hated mimes.

So, lucky reader, can you _guess what her name is now?_

Right.

_Mime._

Or, as the Joker had explained, Minnie Me. But Mi +Me=Mime, and so that is what she would be called. Mime _would_ have voiced a complaint, except that she was so angry that she couldn't speak.

But was that the worst part?

Oh, no,no,no,no,no. Because that would be too _easy._ And, after all, _nothing_ was easy for a certain Miss Mime. She needed a _costume. _Yeah. Not _quite _as slutty as Harley's, but she couldn't exactly walk through Amish country with this thing on. She'd get stoned to death.

A bowl-cut black and white striped shirt. Not bad. Thigh-length white and gray striped stockings. Alright, that was…ok. Not very ideal, but…

A black micro-minnie skirt with attached suspenders.

Ok, that was _not cool._

That's how the guy dresses his _daughter?!_ That was just…she couldn't even say it. But it was bad. To her, it was very, very bad.

It got worse.

She had to wear a thong. With a micro minnie skirt.

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THIS GUY?!?!?

Yeah, it's cool. _If you stand still._ **Not** if you are given random clownish weapons, a rather suspicious-looking cane, and a mime hat that doubled as a machine gun. **Not **if you are driven up to the police station (which was in flames, by the way) and told to "stand there and hit anything that moves."

And **not** if a certain Robin and Nightwing had come upon you and you were now running for your life across traffic in a ridiculous stripper-mime outfit, a ghost-white face highlighted by black lips and "mime tears", and a rather stubborn hat that refused to stay on top of her head.

And _certainly _not in a _fucking thong._

But was she doing this all anyway? Yeeeeeeeeeesssssssssssssss.

Why? Because her Father of The Year had shoved a gun into her face and explained to her in great detail what would happen if she didn't do _exactly _what he told her to do. Because Harley Quinn didn't explain to her how to use the weapons. Because she had kicked Robin in the balls, and now he had a score (and not to mention his balls) to settle. And because Batman somehow had come to the conclusion that she _wanted_ to do this, and so had set his mad dogs against her.

She didn't want to do this.

She should have knocked her mother out at the door before she rang the bell. She should have run away and become a street rat or a child whore or _something. Anything _was better that this.

But she was the mime, the Joker's ace in the hole. _She _was the reason why the Joker had burned. _She _was the reason so many had died. Her.

Nameless, soulless, no- _Mime._ The silent, unfunny clown. The one everyone hated, the one always blamed, the one who tried desperately to be something she just _couldn't_ be. The laughing stock of the _clown community,_ for God's sake!

Mime.

Ha.

Not.

Funny.

Notfunnynotfunnynotfunnynotfunnynotfunnynotfunny

"HAhahahahahahahahaha!"

THWACK.

"Robin went flying. Ha! A pun."

TWACK. TWACK. TWACK."

Down, down, down.

"Ooooh, sorry about that. Must've broken a wing!"

He got back up unsteadily, glaring at her from behind his mask.

"You're dead now, you nameless little bitch-" he snarled, leaping atb her. She dodged easily, twirling around only to come to a sudden halt.

THWACK.

Nightwing went down.

"Not so Nameless anymore," she snarled.

The marionettes were lifted by their strings, again they were lifted. The older one stared at her in a kind of awe.

"Who…_what_ are you?"

Thump. Thwack.

The mime twirled again, a cane in his stomach, again on his head.

She landed some odd feet away, the stick resting atop her shoulders. She grinned the grin, the one boiling in her blood, the one she inherited.

"Wouldn't you know it kid," she chirped, though he was older than her "I'm nothing but the Joker's ace!"

Hit in the head, the stomach, shins, neck. The tin soldiers fall down. They don't stand a chance against their quick-footed assailant.

"The ace,"

THWACK

"In,"

THUNK

"The,"

"BAM

"Hole."

The chips are down, a new enemy is born.

She wondered if she should drag their unconscious bodies into the fire.

But no, that wasn't part of the plan. She'd have to ask the Joker.

So, skipping down the way and humming to herself, she went towards the side she had chosen.

The fun side.

No longer nameless.

Mime.

**Author's Note:**

OH GOD I"MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYSORRYSORRYSORRYSORRYSORRY.

Yeah, it's been a while since I've updated. All I can say is that school is a BITCH.

But then I read your reviews and I was like, SHIT. I felt so guilty! T.T

So I updated. Yay! And don't worry, the chapps will be longer after this. This was just to get me going again.

Nameless ain't so innocent now, eh? XD.


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